The Seduction of Lord Stone (Dashing Widows 1) - Page 41

“I want to see you.” She slid one hand free of his hold and flattened her palm against the front of his trousers. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Damn it,” he bit out as he went up in flames. His cock, already hard, swelled and the ache in his balls made him grit his teeth. He reached down to shape her touch around where he needed her.

“Silas…” she sighed.

That shivery little sound goaded him on. He crashed his mouth into hers for a ferocious kiss, then went to work undressing her. He’d worried that she might need coaxing, but she was with him every step. To his gratification, she made no secret of her lusty enjoyment of his touch. After these bitter months, her willingness was twice as sweet. Her encouragement and audacity proved a potent mixture, making his hands shake as he unfastened her pretty yellow gown.

The dress slipped to the floor with a whisper of fabric. His animal self demanded that he push her onto the bed and climb on top of her. The soul that had spent more than a year starving for her told him to tarry, to notice, to remember.

So he lingered to take in the glory of Caro in filmy white corset and petticoat. A delighted smile curved his lips. “You look like a naughty milkmaid.”

She laughed and shook the heavy fall of hair back from her face. With a naturalness that made his heart expand, she turned and presented her back, lifting her hair out of the way.

He kissed the curve of her shoulder, and set to removing the last barriers between them. Something of his deftness returned and soon clothing lay scattered around them. He nipped a line down her neck and across her nape.

“Ooh, Silas, I like that,” she whispered in a husky voice that tested his control.

He breathed deeply, capturing the fragrance of her skin. Their turbulent encounter in his greenhouse had been too hurried and furious for him to appreciate the splendid details of his beloved. The precise texture of her silky hair. The tremulous, erratic catch of her breath. Her essence: warm, flowery, female. He could write sonnets to that scent.

He ran his teeth along a tendon in her neck until she gasped with pleasure. His hands traced her slender back down to where gauzy fabric teased him with hints of curved buttocks and lovely legs. He slipped her drawers down and rested his hands on her supple waist as she stepped free of them.

At last, at last she was naked. Naked, except for her stockings gartered at the knee and the pretty yellow satin slippers with the ribbons around her neat ankles. He muffled an agonized groan. His need, already incandescent, burned hotter by degrees. He took an instant to thank whatever powers had ordained that she came to him.

“Shall I turn around?”

He heard a tremor of uncertainty. “Not yet.”

Delaying the moment tantalized them both. The sight of her bare back and bottom made him powerfully aroused. She’d looked beguiling in corset and petticoat. Now that she was all but naked except for those come-hither stockings, she was irresistible. He needed a moment to shore up his restraint or Caro would find herself unceremoniously taken, never mind his best intentions.

Caro shifted from one foot to the other. “I feel a little awkward,” she muttered.

“You look like a dream,” he grated out, ripping in a frenzy at what remained of his clothing.

At last his bedamned trousers were off. Gently he touched her shoulder and drew her to face him. He knew by now that she wouldn’t pretend coyness. Even so, astounded pleasure jolted him when her attention brazenly dropped to his cock, thick and erect.

“Good heavens,” she said in blatant admiration.

Silas hardly heard her. He was too busy drinking in the sight of her body.

Caro was all feminine curve

s and pearly white skin. From her ruffled dark head to her elegant narrow feet, she was the loveliest creature he’d ever seen. She offered him a universe of marvels to explore. Lush breasts with dark pink nipples. Pale stomach with a mysterious little navel. Feathery dark curls hiding her sex.

He’d wanted her for so long, this generosity was too much. He swallowed to ease a desert-dry throat, but still his words emerged as a croak. “You are beyond exquisite.”

He reached out almost hesitantly to cup one breast, testing its delectable weight in his palm. She sighed and pressed forward. She seemed too perfect for mortal man’s possession. But he meant to take her and hold her and cherish her, until she ached to stay with him forever.

He delicately took her beaded nipple between his lips, tasting her sweetness. She groaned in encouragement and arched forward, burying her hands in his hair and bringing him closer. He drew harder on her breast, rewarded with another quivering sigh.

Hunger surged with invincible command. Fever overwhelmed everything but carnal need and he lost himself in adoring her beautiful body. Kissing all of her he could reach. Stroking her creamy skin. Discovering where she liked him to touch her. Oh, what delightful exploration.

Each second heightened his craving. He had to taste her or go mad. Gently he edged her backward until she bumped into the bed.

“Lie back,” he said hoarsely. Without waiting for an answer, he caught her shoulders and set her on the mattress.

“Silas, what—” she began as he dropped to kneel between her splayed legs like a worshipper at an altar.

“Trust me,” he said, catching her knees to prevent her instinctive withdrawal. Her scent surrounded him so that with every breath, she became more a part of him.

Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance
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